Torment Me (Rough Love 1)

I shook my head again. Harder clamps would kill me, but part of me remembered how wet I’d gotten the moment he put them on. Maybe harder ones would only make me wetter.

Damn it, I hated myself. I hated being a liar. I wanted to come so bad. I wanted to come while he was flailing away at my pussy with his horrible, punishing belt. I wanted him to free my hands so I could open myself up, so he could bring the leather right down on my swollen clit.

“Please,” I moaned behind the gag. “Please let me go. Please take off the clamps.”

It sounded like nothing, a bunch of desperate whining. He slid the belt over my nipples, joggling the clamps, then trailed it down my trembling stomach and over my pussy. Then he slid it beneath me and pulled it up from the front and the back so I could feel the leather all along my slit. My pussy ached to be fucked. He moved the belt back and forth, and my hips bucked for more of the contact.

He chuckled. So humiliating. I felt his body close to mine, his bare skin. He must have undressed at some point. I felt the brush of his warm shoulder and his hard, muscular chest.

“When you’re mine, only mine, we can do this all the time,” he said. “I can gag you and hurt you and make you come and come and come until you can’t stand it. We can fluid bond, and go bareback, and I’ll come in you over and over, until my cum’s dripping out of you like a fucking waterfall. I’d like that, Chere. You suit me perfectly, and I hate to share. I’ll pay not to share you.”

I shook my head, but clearly, at this point, I was only amusing him with my frantic, fake denials. He took off the clamps and I sucked air through the gag as my nipples flared in protest. His hands yanked my hips closer to the edge of the bed and his cock poked against my ass.

“When I’m pissed, I don’t use as much lube,” he said. “Good thing your pussy’s so messy and drippy.”

As if to demonstrate, he jammed his fingers in my pussy and gathered the copious wetness. I almost came right then, with his fingers rough inside me and his cock against my hole. Then he started pushing forward into my ass, and it hurt too much to come.

Oh, shit, it hurt. I fought him, but I couldn’t really fight him. I couldn’t draw away, or deny him, only squirm and toss on the bed. When he was fully seated inside me, he leaned his weight on me, and I wished I could see what he looked like, looming over me with his cock hard and deep in my ass.

I pictured dark eyes, a lover’s gaze, even though he was brutal to me. He started to ride me with harsh, steady thrusts. I groaned behind the gag, hating this and loving it. When he drove especially deep, his pelvis ground against my clit and I ached for climax. Anal hurt, but it was a thrilling, hot kind of pain. I didn’t want him to stop. My pussy clenched, still flowing with everything I felt for him.

He wanted me to himself.

He didn’t want to share me with anyone else.

He pinched my still-tender nipples while he fucked my ass. I arched my back, and he made a pleased sound, a nonverbal cue, like a trainer rewarding a dumb animal. I was that dumb animal, blind, mute, strapped down, my asshole stuffed to the hilt, my nipples sore and sensitive. I tugged at my stocking bondage, but he obviously knew his knots, and nylon was impossible to break. Drool leaked from the corners of my gagged mouth as his pace quickened, along with his force. He hurt my nipples and toyed with my clit in equal measure, so the depth of my pain and degradation was matched by the height of my pleasure. The two of them got mixed up, these two powerful feelings, dread and bliss.

“You know why you like it in the ass?” he said. “Because that’s what you deserve.”

I did deserve it. I was a whore, a slut, an animal who couldn’t stop myself from enjoying the perverted things he did. So much for being hard and unreachable. The only one hard and unreachable in our current scenario was him.

“You have one minute to come,” he said as I endured his quickening thrusts. “One minute to come with my cock buried in your whore ass. You should have come already.”

He fucked me harder, twisting my nipples. I panted behind the gag and spread my legs as far as I could, arching toward his pain and his pleasure, eager to take both of them to get what I wanted, which was relief. Or release. Maybe they were the same thing.